


Christmas Miracles

by Kayim



Category: DCU
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-18
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a Secret Santa Exchange.  The prompt was: Someone in the League can see that Supes and Bats are crazy about each other, but those two are, as ever, oblivious. The Leaguer sets out to get them together and out of everyone else's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Miracles

The Christmas decorations were already up in the monitor room and Wally was dashing around singing Christmas carols. Other members of the League often joked that Wally was more like a child than a superhero, but secretly, they all wished they were able to be so happy and lighthearted about the season. He was the one who had left mistletoe hanging above the transporter tube, using it as an excuse to kiss Diana each time she came up to the Watchtower. He tried it once with Shayera, but the bruises were a fairly painful reminder not to attempt that one again.

It was also Wally who had insisted on the Christmas Eve meal together. Just the seven founding members, none of the new recruits, no masks. He had sent out the invitations over a week earlier, but said to Diana that he didn't really expect everyone to turn up. Of course, by 'everyone' he actually meant Batman, but Diana had simply smiled and reminded him that Christmas was a time for miracles.

Sure enough, just as Wally was putting a CD of Christmas music on to play, the transporter whirred to life. Diana was the first to arrive. Dressed in a stunning long black dress, her hair flowing down across her shoulders, she looked every bit the Amazon Princess she was. She stepped out of the transporter and walked over to Wally, kissing him gently on the cheek.

"I hope I'm not overdressed," she said, noticing that he was staring.

"Hell no," he responded a little too enthusiastically.

John and Shayera arrived soon after, with J'onn following close behind.

"This was a good idea," John said to Wally, once he had convinced the speedster to calm down and have a drink. The punch was supposed to be non-alcoholic, just in case of an emergency, but John was fairly sure he could taste something rather vodka-like in with the fruit juices. He chose not to comment.

"Do you think he'll come?" Wally asked, nervously. There was only one 'he' they could be referring to.

"In all honesty," John replied, "I don't know. I mean, we're talking about throwing off all masks and opening up to people. Not really his specialty, is it?"

Shayera was standing by one of the consoles, flicking through a selection of CDs in the hope of finding something a little less painful than "Jingle Bells Through The Years" to play. She discovered a compilation of Christmas songs and decided that it was probably the best option. The music began playing just as the transporter indicated again that someone was coming up.

The transporter doors opened and there stood Clark Kent, complete with geeky glasses and arms full of baubles and tinsel in every gaudy color a person could imagine.

"Merry Christmas!" Clark called out as he stepped out of the transporter, his eyes scanning the room, checking who had already arrived.

Hugs and Christmas kisses were bestowed on the newest guest by Diana and Shayera as Wally grabbed at the decorations, dashing around adding them to the already over-tinseled room.

"Not here yet?" Clark asked Diana cryptically. She shook her head. "Damn," he replied.

"So let's get this party started," John called out, a glass of punch in one hand as the other hand used the Lantern ring to produce a Christmas Elf to grab at Wally and stop him running around.

A brief look of disappointment crossed Wally's face as he realized that there was still one person who hadn't arrived, but he forced a smile and ushered everyone over to the table.

:-:

After the fourth visit to the kitchens, Wally had brought enough food in that they could have fed the entire meta-human community. Twice.

When he finally finished and sat himself down at the huge round table, he looked around.

"I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for coming here tonight. We spend a lot of time together usually, I know, but it's rare that we are here as friends, rather than just superheroes. So, in the words of a much wiser man, 'Eat, Drink and Be Merry!'"

Suddenly, a voice from behind them spoke up.

"I apologize for my tardiness. I hope you'll forgive me."

Like a child on Christmas morning, Wally's face lit up as he noticed Bruce Wayne standing there, presents in his arms, dressed in a suit that probably cost almost as much as the Watchtower's electricity bill for a year.

No one spoke as Bruce left the presents on the nearest console and sat himself down at the table between Diana and Clark.

"You're looking stunning tonight, Princess," he remarked as he reached for a glass of wine. "As are you all," he added, offering a small smile to Clark.

:-:

Diana couldn't help but watch Bruce throughout the meal. He intrigued her at the best of times, but tonight there was something bothering her somewhat. It took until dessert for her to realized what it was.

This wasn't Bruce.

Well, it was him, but not the real him. This was simply the Batman wearing another disguise—this time one of a billionaire playboy without a care in the world.

She watched him as he regaled the others with stories of past Christmas's in exotic locations, not-so-subtly dropping the names of actors, musicians and politicians into the conversation. He educated the others on the most appropriate wine to accompany a traditional Christmas dinner, and gently chastised Wally for providing only one set of knives and forks.

Throughout the meal, she noticed only two occasions in which the Bruce-mask slipped. The first was when Wally instigated the first round of Christmas cracker pulling (there were enough for at least a dozen rounds, she suspected). Clark had held out the other end of his silver cracker to Bruce. While Diana watched, the two smiled and tugged against each other, even managing to turn something as simple as a Christmas cracker into a competition.

The cracker opened with the expected "bang" and out dropped a small cellophane packet filled with a fake pearl necklace - the typical kind of thing you find alongside the bad joke and paper hat—but Bruce simply stared, his hand poised to pick the item up, but unable to do so. She watched, not understanding, as the color drained from Bruce's face momentarily. He locked eyes with Clark, who snatched the packet away. Diana didn't see where it went, Clark could move extremely fast when he wanted to, and the moment passed. Bruce picked up the red paper hat and looked at it.

"More your color, I believe, Clark," he said as he placed the hat on Clark, his hand lingering almost imperceptibly as it brushed against Clark's short hair.

The second give-away for Diana was when J'onn stood up and proposed a toast.

"To friends and family," he said, raising his glass. "May we always be surrounded by those we love."

They all raised their own glasses and took a drink. All except Bruce, who simply held the glass out. Diana saw him look at Clark and offer his own silent toast to his friend, who returned it, tipping his own glass slightly.

Diana turned to Shayera, who had just asked her a question about celebrations on Themyscira, and allowed the hint of suggestion forming in her mind to take a backseat for a while.

:-:

The rest of the evening continued without incident. Presents were exchanged and Diana was astounded with the diamond earrings that Bruce gave her. She knew he had money, that wasn't exactly a secret, but she had expected him to give out huge, gaudy, over-the-top presents. The earrings were simple studs set in a plain white gold design.

"White gold always looks better on dark-haired women than yellow," he explained when she commented. She looked around, wanting to know that Bruce had treated them all equally. Sure enough he had managed to purchase perfectly appropriate gifts for each of them. She was comparing jewelry with Shayera when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce giving Clark his gift. The watch was in a velvet gift box and, when Clark saw it, his face lit up like a child's.

"Wow. Bruce, it's...wow."

Clark's voice was low, and Diana felt like she was intruding on a private conversation, but something was compelling her to stay there. Something was happening between two of her closest friends and she somehow felt as though she needed to see it through to whatever end it was heading to. There was a look between the two men, equals on so many levels, despite their differences. Diana would later swear she could actually feel the electricity sparking between them.

"You deserve nice things," was all Bruce replied.

:-:

After the party had ended, and everyone had returned home, Diana couldn't help thinking about what she had seen. She had always known that Batman and Superman were friends. She had even suspected that Bruce and Clark were friends. But this was something more. There was a passion between the two of them that Diana herself hadn't felt with anyone in a long, long time, but she knew what it meant.

The question was, did Bruce and Clark know what it meant?

She knew those two men probably better than most did, and she knew how stubborn Bruce could be and how naive Clark was. She strongly suspected that they either had no idea, or they were determined to pretend there was nothing there.

"I can't let that happen," Diana said aloud. It was Christmas. If she couldn't arrange a miracle today, when could she?

:-:

In the Bat-cave, there was no indication at all of the time of year. Alfred and Dick had once suggested putting a tree up in the cave, but a single scowl had dissipated that idea pretty quickly. They had a deal now—the mansion would be decorated by Alfred with help from the various members of their "extended family" and the cave would be left alone. As would Bruce.

It wasn't that he hated Christmas, but it brought back too many painful memories, even after so many years. He tried to enjoy himself, he honestly did, but there would always be something, like the damn beads that fell from the Christmas cracker. Stupid worthless baubles that hurt him more than any meta-human villain ever had. They didn't even look like real pearls, but he couldn't help but remember the moment his mother's pearls had rolled across the floor in front of him, the white splattered with blood. Thank goodness for Clark, he thought. Other than Alfred and the boys, Clark was the only person who would have understood what they meant to him.

Gritting his teeth against the memory, Bruce was grateful when an alarm sounded on one of the monitors.

"Batman, I need some help." Diana's voice came though clearly, but the image was fuzzy and out of focus.

Bruce was already standing, pulling his cowl over his head. He glanced at another monitor and saw that Diana's comm unit was indicating she was back up at the Watchtower.

Within seconds, he was on his way.

:-:

Clark was finishing wrapping presents for his parents up in his old bedroom back on the Kent farm. His mother always complained that he left everything until the last minute, but the truth was that usually he didn't have enough time to get things done any earlier.

As always, no matter what he was doing, he was listening to a thousand sounds around the world. Alarms blared, sirens sounded, but he understood that he needed to allow the emergency services to do their jobs—they were the true heroes, after all—and decided that he could afford to stay on the farm for a little while longer.

Suddenly, one voice came through to him clearer than any other.

"Superman, can you hear me? It's Diana. I need your assistance at the Watchtower."

He was changed into his costume and out of the window before she had even finished speaking.

:-:

"Wonder Woman?" Bruce called out as soon as he stepped out of the transporter tube. The Watchtower was deserted, the decorations still hanging where Wally had left them. He pulled a scanner from his utility belt, looking for Diana's body heat signal. Nothing. The only signal he identified was an incoming unknown heading directly towards him.

At that speed and temperature, it could be only one person.

Sure enough, moments later, Superman dashed through the door. His x-ray vision had obviously told him that Batman was the only person in the tower—something which the confusion in his eyes made clear that he couldn't understand.

"Where's Diana?" he asked.

"Not here," replied Batman with his usual brevity. He was starting to suspect that something strange was happening.

Superman scanned the room, his eyes settling on a note that had been left taped to one of the monitors.

The pair walked over to it and Batman reached out for it.

_Dear boys,

You're both too stubborn to even realize it, but it's clear to me. The tower is yours—everyone else has left for the holidays.

I wish you the best.

Love,  
Diana.

p.s.

Look up.

_

They both looked up, puzzled, and saw a sprig of mistletoe that someone, Diana presumably, had hung there.

Nervous, scared, petrified, they looked at each other, neither ready to take that first tiny, huge step. With just one more movement, one action, they both realized that nothing would ever be the same again. It would change everything they knew—everything they had each fought to maintain for so long—and if there was one thing they had in common over everything else, it was that they both hated change. The balance would be altered,; the very axis of their lives would be skewed.

They stood like that for what could have been hours until one of them moved. Neither knew which of them it had been, who had made the first move, but somehow they were kissing, soft tentative kisses which soon evolved. Finally, the passion, which had been bubbling inside of them both for months, was allowed to come to the surface.

Pulling back for air, although in reality only one of them actually needed to concern himself with a triviality like that, they looked at each other, hands still tangled in each other's hair, bodies still pressed together.

"Merry Christmas, Bruce."

"Merry Christmas, Clark."


End file.
